


Atmosphere

by ScandalousMinds



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angsty but not really, Awkwardness, Confusion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Disputes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, Lack of Communication, M/M, Seriously this this is quite fluffy, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScandalousMinds/pseuds/ScandalousMinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The atmosphere within 221B had been palpable since its two inhabitants had spent the night together almost a week ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own Sherlock I Just Belong to it's fandom!
> 
> Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors.

The atmosphere within 221B had been palpable since its two inhabitants had spent the night together almost a week ago. John had believed the strained ambiance within the flat had been due to the fact he had overwhelmed Sherlock by taking things too far, far too quickly. In truth he had most definitely overwhelmed Sherlock but in one of the most glorious ways possible. Sherlock however believed that the awkwardness between them had been caused by his disappointing John by not being as experienced as the doctor was most likely used to. This misunderstanding of each others perspectives had led them to where they were presently with the two of them tip-toeing around one another.

After spending several days not-so-accidentally avoiding the hesitant gaze of his flatmate John decided to risk a trip into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea having deemed the unusually quiet coast to be clear.However, just as he rounded the corner he walked in on the silent detective sitting down at the kitchen table examining an odd looking object under his beloved microscope. John watch for a few moments as the statuesque sleuth before him leaned into the object with keen interest exposing a beautiful expanse of pale caress-able skin as he did so, skin that not 4 days ago had been kissed, licked and sucked by one John Hamish Watson to an explicit degree.

As his brain ran riot with remarkably vivid flashbacks the doctor was no longer sure if continuing into the cramped space with such a beautiful temptation was a particularly bright idea, especially considering how unusual Sherlock had been around him (well more than usual). John didn’t want to make Sherlock feel anymore uncomfortable after all. 

Just as John turned to leave Sherlock looked up and saw him trying to make a what he believed to be a hasty retreat. Sherlock’s heart sank like a stone within his stomach. “Ah, I see. I did disappoint him.” Sherlock concluded to himself.

“John?” Sherlock's words left him hesitantly 

John paused mid-retreat looking back at Sherlock’s professionally blank expression, missing the flicker of hurt that brushed over his features.

“Hey… I… was… Just going to… Umm make some tea. Wanna a cup?” Both men cringed at John’s forced cheer.

“Please, yes. Thank you.” Once more both men cringed, this time at Sherlock unusual politeness.

“Okay good… That’s… Good.” 

John moved around the table actively trying not to brush past his flat mate whose eyes resembled those of a scared deer. 

John chastised himself silently ”Should’ve waited, I knew he couldn’t handle all those feelings at once. That isn’t how Sherlock works. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.” 

Sherlock pretended not to notice the increasing anguish in his best friends face by keeping his eyes glued firmly on the microscope before him as John filled the kettle and set it to boil. John's brain struggled to find something to say that would break the painful silence.  
“Have you… heard anymore about the missing golden swan case from Lestrade?” As opening lines go John had to admit it wasn’t his best but it was all he had in his deflated arsenal at the present moment. 

“The gardener did it.” stated rather curtly.

“Just like you said,” johns smiled warmly and Sherlock’s heart began a strange irregular beat.

“Obviously.” Sherlock said briskly.

“Yeah right, obvious.” John sighed, trying to find a way to break into a carefree easygoing dialogue was not going well he thought to himself. “I heard Ander—“

“Please John! I am not some innocent naïve young girl you deflowered and didn’t call back! I don’t NEED you to appease me with frivolous small talk! It is insulting and demeaning to us both!” Sherlock sneered.

John gaped at just how inept Sherlock could make him feel so incredibly quickly.

“I—I’m sorry…” John began only to be cut of by a bristling Sherlock.

“Yes, John! You have made that abundantly clear.” Sherlock spat. “But please be rest assured I have no intention of latching on to you like some recently imprinted duckling simply because you were my first and quite honestly I resent the implication of such a notion.” 

Sherlock was hurt and his pride was bruised. Sherlock Holmes was not good at not being good at something. John was his best friend, the only friend he had who was willing to put up with him 24 hours a day… something that not even Mrs. Hudson could manage and people said she had the patience of a saint. Well at least John _had _been willing until now. Sherlock hated to fail and he hated letting John down and most of all he hated that he cared about either of the previous two facts when it made him feel this way.__

“That’s not—Sherlock! Sherlock! Look at me!” Sherlock looked up at John with blazing glare that made John wince. “Sherlock… I’m not sure what you want me to say to…”

“Seriously John, do us both a favour and say nothing.”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t!” Sherlock cut in sharply, the idea of hearing John apologising for what had without doubt been the best night of Sherlock's life, as if it were some _mistake _that he needed to rectify was unbearable.__

“Sherlock—“ John pushed.

“Don’t John! I said don’t!” Sherlock stood abruptly deciding to leave before the conversation at hand could push on any further. John rushed forward and grabbed Sherlock’s arm.

“What--- what can I do?” John pleaded trying his best to save what was undoubtedly the single most important relationship in his life.

“Nothing!” Sherlock spat trying unsuccessfully to pry himself from the Army doctors’ firm grasp.

“Please… please just talk to me.” John begged.

“There’s nothing to say” Sherlock spoke softly showing the vulnerable side that only John ever saw. “You clearly regret that night—“

“…And you?” John cut in casting his friend an earnest yet quizzical gaze.

“I would never regret that night… please… please let me go.” Sherlock’s voice was hesitant once more.

“Sherlock—“ John began.

“ _Please _John don’t! Stop this!” Sherlock implored.__

“No! Sherlock… I… I can’t.“ John retorted “Sherlock… I don’t—no! I would never regret it. Ever.”

Sherlock looked up abruptly at John as if he had grown two opposable heads.

“You don’t?” Sherlock asked with genuine confusion his hawk-like eyes searching for signs that the doctor was lying. There were none.

“I don’t!” John stated with defiant certainty.

“---But you haven’t… I thought you… I disappointed you.” Sherlock dropped eye contact and began fidgeting with the buttons on his deep violet coloured shirt.

“Oh God! Sherlock… is that what you thought? Honestly?” John’s eyes burned into Sherlock’s face.

“Yes.” Sherlock said simply. John moved quickly towards Sherlock standing on the bare edge of the detective's personal space.

“Sweetheart… you have never, never disappointed me! Not ever!” John said firmly. “That night… was… Sherlock it was the best night I’ve ever shared with any single person. Ever. You could never disappoint me. That night was world changing! You mean… everything… everything to me!” 

Sherlock’s heart stopped in his chest “but you… you stopped looking at me.”

“I stopped looking at you because I was scared…” John spoke honestly.

“Scared? Why?” Sherlock didn’t understand anything that was happening.

“I’ve wanted that night for so long, but I then I realised that, _I _had wanted that night for so long. I was scared that I hadn’t been attentive, that I hadn’t been as great as your first time should have been.__

“Oh” was all Sherlock squeeze out. 

“I’m so sorry Sherlock.” John said as he stroked Sherlock’s cheek gently. The detective leaned into the touch he had been craving for a week.

“I—I thought… you were… amazing, granted my personal knowledge of sexual interactions is somewhat limited but I struggle to imagine that anyone else could have been as wonderful as you were.” Sherlock was practically purring into John’s hand as the doctor smiled struggling to hide his creeping blushes.

“Come on let’s sit on the sofa.” John instructed at he took hold of Sherlock’s hand with a tight squeeze. Sherlock followed obediently. John sat down and pulled Sherlock down into his arms, wrapping them warmly around him. Sherlock instinctively snuggled further into the embrace. There they sat quickly breathing each other in until Sherlock broke the silence. 

“John?” Sherlock whispered quietly.

“Mmhm?” John sighed enjoying the closeness.

“Is… are we—are you—am I yours?” Sherlock uncharacteristically stuttered.

John’s fought to control the butterflies in his stomach at the question. “Do… do you want to? B—be mine I mean.” The doctor stammered.

“Yes.” Sherlock said with a certainty that made John ridiculously happy as he struggled to hide his grin in Sherlock’s curls.

“Good… that’s good. I’m glad.” John stated with faux nonchalance.

“Yes it is! And you’ll be mine obviously!” Sherlock spoke in a way that made it sound more like a possessive statement than a question.

John smiled at the possessive edge in Sherlock’s voice. “Yes, obviously… Your mine… and… I’m… yours.” John had barely finished his summary before Sherlock had shimmied up in his arms and pressed a blazing kiss to his lips. Their lips moved in perfect rhythm, perfectly synchronised and fluid. Sherlock tasted John’s mouth enjoying the warm, moist slide of their tongues. Sherlock pulled back his eyes dark with wanting and simply said, “That will do nicely.” And simply went back to Johns welcoming mouth.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fluffy fluff :D


End file.
